This year I started writing again. I started journaling every morning and every single night. Most nights I recount my days. I talk to myself as if I am a friend in a distant land aching to catch up. Some nights I’m so confused and hurt by the day that I realize I need time and give space to myself. Becoming my own best friend is a little weird but we make it work. Together we have been assaulted and we have been praised. We ran 10 beautiful miles and lie in bed and cried for hours. I am my own best friend and it happened almost overnight. My father left me alone in an apartment we shared when I was 20 years old to be with my stepmother. I had to survive in ways I’d rather not recount but he didn't bother to visit for 3 years. 3 years passed before I got to see my only living parent. While visiting he degraded my living situation and made me feel irreparably sorrowful for his arrival. I am 25 now. Living in a subjectively better space and he has moved back to Illinois, without my stepmother. When I found out about his decision my mind ran away from me in ways it hadn't in years. I spent so much time avoiding how I felt with social media, exercises, work and relationships. My self-esteem shattered. I tried everything to be happy again. To like myself outside of my appearance was no simple decision. It took years of journaling to forgive my father but I knew I had to. I became so engrossed in speaking poorly and chaotically about my father to my younger half-sister that she became fed up. She told me she didn't want to speak of him anymore so I began journaling! The boundary she set with me set me free in more ways than she can imagine. I am so grateful to have my writing back. It's unimaginable. I look forward to it every day of the week. I forgive myself and I forgive others. I find clarity and complexity in life and I feel at ease in both. As a black woman, my hair has always been an issue for me. As a motherless black woman, I’ve always lacked direction in what to do with it. This year I shaved my head! something I never imagined I would do but it’s brought me such peace and confidence. It’s helped me so much to lose control of things. To let things flow in whatever favor they chose is a superpower I wish on my worst enemy as well as my greatest friend. I wish this kind of kindness upon anyone who needs it. This self-reflection is priceless. I would spend any amount of money to go back in time and reveal these truths to myself because I have learned so so much about myself yet I understand I have learned nothing at all and the peace that comes with that level of humility and confidence is extraordinary. It feels illegal to have this sort of inner peace that allows things to just go. To allow the tears to fall and laughter to rise. To feel my pain is the least painful experience of all experience because to feel is to release again and again. I hope to never lose my love again yet I am open to life without journaling because ultimately I’ve learned that change is inevitable.

When Covid hit I was a 23-year-old college dropout. Dazed and confused, I was working 2 jobs. One as the hostess of a fine dining experience the other as a CNA at a long-term care facility. Both jobs put me at a disadvantage to covid. Financially burdened with debt and an unreliable car I worked hard and saved nothing. At the peak of the pandemic, I fell back in love with running. I had drunk so much alcohol when covid hit that I had begun my journey of body dysmorphia. Gaining 30 pounds I decided to put my muscle memory to work. My body remembered everything it had learned from my high-school Cross Country coach. At 24 years old I became obsessed with being outside in a way I hadn't before. Being outdoors, and moving my body became a privilege, not a right. Covid humbled me in ways I never would have imagined. I’ve seen 50 people die in one day at my job now. My recipe for a good life no longer involves the trivial things I so clung to before this experience. Being on my feet for 10 hours, watching family members communicate through closed windows and the innocent elderly of my community begging for an ending inflamed my soul. While running I would imagine myself running away. Running away from my life and personhood. It became my escape to the point I would run twice a day sometimes. Just to feel something like an achievement. Being a CNA is a truly thankless job because there are no words to fully describe what we sacrifice. No verbal thanks or physical gift can prepare a person for losing someone they just met. Someone they wiped, cleaned and fed. It’s like losing 50 adopted children per day. The age difference and advice given to me by many of the patients I lost were akin to the pain of losing my mother. I lost my mother at 6 years old. I found her dead and blue in her bed alone. So watching so many people die felt like that was happening over and over again. At some point, I begged God to take me instead. I couldn't believe the pain that was all around me. I was deaf at family gatherings. My voice failing me I knew not how to speak for days as such was the strength of the shock I was constantly put through. I am 25 years old now and I am taking an antidepressant. Still a CNA still in love with my residents I have a new calling. Physical therapy is what I now consider those runs through my local trail and I am now ready to give those who have survived the pandemic as I have another chance at walking. Many of those residents survived to watch their friends die. Many don't know this but facilities kept residents isolated and alone in their rooms for over a year to protect them. The sadness that brings is akin to being in psychosis. I want more for my residents. I want to help the elderly ready and willing to work. I want to see them swim again and toss their grandchildren in the air. If I can help just one elderly person who survived covid I can rest peacefully with those I have lost.

I tried and failed to get the truth. While interviewing my companion for this essay I became obsessed with protecting video gamers. I felt as though to write about gamers in a negative light would be to betray my friend, when the reality may be quite different. When I think of gamers I think of racist, sexist, fearful slobs. I am an African American woman dating a white male. He loves video games and I’ve never seen him toss epithets but that does not mean he hasn't. I believe in women. I believe them when they share their harrowing experiences and I generally believe in all people brave enough to share their trauma with me or the world wide web. But for some reason, I find it hard to believe the racial slurs I see gamers use regularly have never reached my home. I do not believe gaming is what causes mass shootings. I do not believe it is the main vessel that young men must venture through to become rapists or terrorists but I do believe these qualities lie in every man. Unfortunately, I believe the women who love these men turn a blind or encouraging eye to many degrees. Growing up I overheard my brother use endless homophobic and violently sexist words against his friends. While playing football, gaming or simply conversing. He is a man with many friends. Now he is a man with a daughter. I cannot imagine hearing a recording of this man saying the things he’s said as young as 12 today and carrying his female child tomorrow. At the end of the day, this behavior ends and begins with breeding. There is something about men that can turn something as harmless as a pixelated image into something much more dangerous. After reading more about video gamers and their general lack of consciousness I see the truth. I see that I have believed this to be a harmless outlet for men despite what I’ve heard in chat rooms. I believe this game is worthy of time and effort despite watching my companion kill a minimum of 1 billion people in 5 years. I now believe video gaming may be keeping me safe in my own home from this animal. If I knew what to say I would say it now. If I knew what to do I would do it now. When I know what to say I may finally say it. But for now, I am just a woman in this world of angry sweet men whose thirst for destruction may be being tamed by this game.

Today my neighbor screamed up at me for the 2nd time this week. Tears in my eyes as I drove to work. Snow pouring down I sat in silence while steering my wheel left and right. Pumping the breaks softly I appeared at work. I have also been a CNA for 5 years. One of the mental issues I see on a regular basis is schizophrenia. My neighbor yells at me from downstairs. I imagine her screaming up at her ceiling. Perfectly content with never speaking to me in person, never pursuing a formal complaint or solution. Sitting downstairs smoking weed and telling her new born baby to shut up, I imagine she feels no shame. I feel ashamed for her though. So I get ready for work in silence. Awaiting the day my empathy runs out and I phone the police to report God knows what. I am not a perfect individual though. I grew up in a single parent household. My father, a police officer, worked long hours and my mother committed suicide at a very young age. Alone, my dad did the best he could to raise me but I slip. I cry when this person yells obscenitied up at me, I feel ashamed, I feel alone and afraid. I’ve tried to tell my landlord and nothing was done. Nothing was done about the copious weed stench that traps itself into my scrubs for work, nothing is done about the music or the wild parties. I found myself so distraught that I spent an entire summer camping this year. Camping I learned how resillient I am. I learned to cook food over a fire alone, I learned how to stretch before a long trek and so many other basic survival lessons. The biggest one of all is how strong I am in my own weakness. Because I am comfortable being weak I can be strong. This information keeps me going. I am not a follower. I do not beg for approval or bow to the mean spirited. I overcome and find empathy in my heart. Enough to cover us all. With my degree I intend to extend this inner strength beyond myself. Physical therapy is a tool for the elderly. And like my camping experience I believe I can make a difference in many of the lives that saved my mind every time I’ve gone to work. To give care is my ultimate goal every single day. It's a trap I fall into. It’s who I am. Leadership is being yourself in a world full of people who want to sell you on the idea that being something else is more important. To me a true leader conserves exemplary empathy towards those most hurting. A gentle giant of authenticity and high morale I pride myself on giving her diapers when her child was born. The only words we’ve ever shared were during those few magical moments I knew I would have to cherish. I intend to complete my general education at Highland Community college while working as a CNA for the next 2-3 years. Afterward I will pursue a 4 year University acceptance. At the university I will study Kinesiology and Physical therapy. Eventually getting my masters I will open a geriatric Physical therapy space where I will pursue my passion of caring for the human mind and bodies of those who, after long years of complex joy and suffering, deserve the space and time to move forward just as much as anyone else.

I am a traveling CNA with 5 years of experience under my belt. Now 25 years old, as I look back at my career I’m still so thankful for the opportunity to do what I love in a space I feel most comfortable doing it. I work predominantly in long term care so my patients are generally between the ages of 65 and 105! I wake up at 4 a.m most days, bathe, dress, eat and I’m out of the door by 5 a.m. Usually, when I walk into work, I am bombarded by the scent of urine and feces. We try to keep the smell contained but what I’ve learned is to simply do my best to get those that can use the toilet to the bathroom before I am asked or requested to change a resident's pants. 5 years is a very long time to me. I still can't believe anything could last as long as highschool. During my teen years I enjoyed crosscountry and theater arts. I love focusing on what I am grateful for but the days I can barely afford to put a meal together or put $25 into my savings account are hard. I work under extreme stress, especially at the height of covid. Some nights I wonder if taking my CNA class was the worst decision of my life. Yesterday we took all of our residents on a bus. Everyone from those in wheelchairs, to the freestanding folks down to the sweetest women using walkers you will ever meet. After dinner we piled into this big yellow nostalgic vehicle and went on a tour of the Christmas lights in a small town called Lena, IL. You see, my job is my life. These people bring me so much joy. Last night, like many nights, my passion was inflamed for them. I want to become a physical therapist because I want to give them freedom of movement. I want to have time to sit and chat. To go out of my way for them in ways I am not yet allowed the time. My days are generally hectic and constant. The moments I find to sit I am sitting at a computer charting what I have done. I find so much passion in caring for these people and I plan to continue my CNA career in ways that could amount to something far greater than my current day to day tasks. I am a student currently at Highland Community College in Freeport IL. I will attend an accredited physical therapy program, preferably out of state, and receive my masters in kinesiology. I want to aid in research projects while maintaining the key relationships in my life. Most importantly I dream of opening my own geriatric physical therapy practice with an emphasis on day to day mobility. When I listen to residents recall the activities they took part in during their own physical therapy sessions I find myself enamored with my own ideas. As a CNA I see the resemblance in mobility ranges in residents who shared past habits and careers! I walk with the residents that want to get stronger and I know how to convince an awnry resident to change from dirty clothes. As a CNA I know when to pay a resident a visit and when to let them be. With the talents I’ve accrued I believe I could be a great fit on any geriatric team outside of directly giving medicine. I understand so much and I’m willing to learn so much more.

I am a traveling CNA with 5 years of experience under my belt. Now 25 years old, as I look back at my career I’m still so thankful for the opportunity to do what I love in a space I feel most comfortable doing it. I work predominantly in long term care so my patients are generally between the ages of 65 and 105! I wake up at 4 a.m most days, bathe, dress, eat and I’m out of the door by 5 a.m. Usually, when I walk into work, I am bombarded by the scent of urine and feces. We try to keep the smell contained but what I’ve learned is to simply do my best to get those that can use the toilet to the bathroom before I am asked or requested to change a resident's pants. 5 years is a very long time to me. I still can't believe anything could last as long as highschool. During my teen years I enjoyed crosscountry and theater arts. I love focusing on what I am grateful for but the days I can barely afford to put a meal together or put $25 into my savings account are hard. I work under extreme stress, especially at the height of covid. Some nights I wonder if taking my CNA class was the worst decision of my life. Yesterday we took all of our residents on a bus. Everyone from those in wheelchairs, to the freestanding folks down to the sweetest women using walkers you will ever meet. After dinner we piled into this big yellow nostalgic vehicle and went on a tour of the Christmas lights in a small town called Lena, IL. You see, my job is my life. These people bring me so much joy. Last night, like many nights, my passion was inflamed for them. I want to become a physical therapist because I want to give them freedom of movement. I want to have time to sit and chat. To go out of my way for them in ways I am not yet allowed the time. My days are generally hectic and constant. The moments I find to sit I am sitting at a computer charting what I have done. I find so much passion in caring for these people and I plan to continue my CNA career in ways that could amount to something far greater than my current day to day tasks. I am a student currently at Highland Community College in Freeport IL. I will attend an accredited physical therapy program, preferably out of state, and receive my masters in kinesiology. I want to aid in research projects while maintaining the key relationships in my life. Most importantly I dream of opening my own geriatric physical therapy practice with an emphasis on day to day mobility. When I listen to residents recall the activities they took part in during their own physical therapy sessions I find myself enamored with my own ideas. As a CNA I see the resemblance in mobility ranges in residents who shared past habits and careers! I walk with the residents that want to get stronger and I know how to convince an awnry resident to change from dirty clothes. As a CNA I know when to pay a resident a visit and when to let them be. With the talents I’ve accrued I believe I could be a great fit on any geriatric team outside of directly giving medicine. I understand so much and I’m willing to learn so much more.

On April 3rd 2017 I received my CNA certification. Shortly after my father left Illinois for Georgia to be with my ex step mother. She abused me as a child after my mother died. Neglected and ensured my father and I maintained a strained surface level relationship. Over the years I’ve come to terms with my mothers suicide by journaling, running and throwing myself into my work. My father, a good man, raised me alone throughout his many romantic relationships. I was never a number 1 priority though. A troubled child I’ve grown to be an independent adult. Facing most of lifes challenges alone. When my father left I worked 3 jobs to support myself through college. Distracted and alone I fell into partying on the weekends. I considered myself a promising adult with a promising future but with no guidance I became worn out by school and focused, instead, on numbing the pain with alcohol rather than pursuing academic validation. Now 25 I have been a CNA for 5 years.Yesterday we took all of our residents on a bus. Everyone from those in wheelchairs, to the freestanding folks down to the sweetest women using walkers you will ever meet. After dinner we piled into this big yellow nostalgic vehicle and went on a tour of the Christmas lights in a small town called Lena, IL. You see, my job is my life. These people bring me so much joy. Last night, like many nights, my passion was inflamed for them. I want to become a physical therapist because I want to give them freedom of movement. I want to have time to sit and chat. To go out of my way for them in ways I am not yet allowed the time. My days are generally hectic and constant. The moments I find to sit I am sitting at a computer charting what I have done. I find so much passion in caring for these people and I plan to continue my CNA career in ways that could amount to something far greater than my current day to day tasks. I am a student currently at Highland Community College in Freeport IL. I will attend an accredited physical therapy program, preferably out of state, and receive my masters in kinesiology. I want to aid in research projects while maintaining the key relationships in my life. Most importantly I dream of opening my own geriatric physical therapy practice with an emphasis on day to day mobility. When I listen to residents recall the activities they took part in during their own physical therapy sessions I find myself enamored with my own ideas. As a CNA I see the resemblance in mobility ranges in residents who shared past habits and careers! I walk with the residents that want to get stronger and I know how to convince an awnry resident to change from dirty clothes. As a CNA I know when to pay a resident a visit and when to let them be. With the talents I’ve accrued I believe I could be a great fit on any geriatric team outside of directly giving medicine. I understand so much and I’m willing to learn so much more.

I am a traveling CNA with 5 years of experience under my belt. Now 25 years old, as I look back at my career I’m still so thankful for the opportunity to do what I love in a space I feel most comfortable doing it. I work predominantly in long term care so my patients are generally between the ages of 65 and 105! I wake up at 4 a.m most days, bathe, dress, eat and I’m out of the door by 5 a.m. Usually, when I walk into work, I am bombarded by the scent of urine and feces. We try to keep the smell contained but what I’ve learned is to simply do my best to get those that can use the toilet to the bathroom before I am asked or requested to change a resident's pants. 5 years is a very long time to me. I still can't believe anything could last as long as highschool. During my teen years I enjoyed crosscountry and theater arts. I love focusing on what I am grateful for but the days I can barely afford to put a meal together or put $25 into my savings account are hard. I work under extreme stress, especially at the height of covid. Some nights I wonder if taking my CNA class was the worst decision of my life. Yesterday we took all of our residents on a bus. Everyone from those in wheelchairs, to the freestanding folks down to the sweetest women using walkers you will ever meet. After dinner we piled into this big yellow nostalgic vehicle and went on a tour of the Christmas lights in a small town called Lena, IL. You see, my job is my life. These people bring me so much joy. Last night, like many nights, my passion was inflamed for them. I want to become a physical therapist because I want to give them freedom of movement. I want to have time to sit and chat. To go out of my way for them in ways I am not yet allowed the time. My days are generally hectic and constant. The moments I find to sit I am sitting at a computer charting what I have done. I find so much passion in caring for these people and I plan to continue my CNA career in ways that could amount to something far greater than my current day to day tasks. I am a student currently at Highland Community College in Freeport IL. I will attend an accredited physical therapy program, preferably out of state, and receive my masters in kinesiology. I want to aid in research projects while maintaining the key relationships in my life. Most importantly I dream of opening my own geriatric physical therapy practice with an emphasis on day to day mobility. When I listen to residents recall the activities they took part in during their own physical therapy sessions I find myself enamored with my own ideas. As a CNA I see the resemblance in mobility ranges in residents who shared past habits and careers! I walk with the residents that want to get stronger and I know how to convince an awnry resident to change from dirty clothes. As a CNA I know when to pay a resident a visit and when to let them be. With the talents I’ve accrued I believe I could be a great fit on any geriatric team outside of directly giving medicine. I understand so much and I’m willing to learn so much more.

To be a continual learner is to constantly be available to the words ‘I don’t know’ and I believe this year I’ve begun to master that. I’m so available to the ‘I don't know’ that it has become a synonymous with my entire vocabulary. I took some time to believe in manifestation in my youngeer years. I would write down everything I wanted as if I already had it. I believed in ‘The Secret’ by Rhonda Byrne. I became haughty with this knowledge. Believing I truly knew much more than my peers and even mentors. This knowledge only enabled my depressive state. I completely disregarded my instincts and need for failure and mistakes and believed any mistakes I made were my own intentional subconscious trying to bring me down when in reality I was faced with real issues that required a sense of humility to face with bravery. God may exist in all of us but because I constantly belive in the ‘I dont know’ I am able to serve him deeper. I’m constantly faced with conflict, like everyone else, yet my approach has evolved into something like immediate defeat. Instead of mulling over what I could’ve done differently in a lot of situations I allow the millions of emotions to wash over me before I speak. Sometimes issues need time for clarity. Sometimes we cant rush out of a funk or a feeling. Sometimes we need months or even years to come up with something great. And I believe being a continual learner is the basis of who I am. Trying things, failing and approaching with a new, possibly god bestowed, idea of moving forward. There are so many ways to reach a goal. But I am willing to settle for a leasson. Because I know who does not know and I believe who know resides in the heavens yet all around me. I wake up at 4 a.m most days of the week. I start my day by boiling my water. Then I head to the shower where I commit myself to the same routine almost daily. I then proceed back into the kitchen once I've exited my shower to drop my 3 eggs in the boiling water and make my 3 slices of bacon. The numbers of eggs and bacon vary, but generally I give myself 30 minutes to bathe and dress and 30 minutes to prepare and eat food as well as take my medicine and vitamins. I generally lay my clothes out on my couch the night before work so I can get dressed in a dry room once I’ve completed my routine. My neighbors are generally sleeping then so this is the most privacy and peace I get all day. As a CNA any shift is a possibility for me. Meaning I can work anywhere between 4 hours and 16 hour days. 3rd shift preparation is much different than 2nd shift because I should be eating more scarcely to keep my energy up and I may not shower before 3rd shift so I may have more time to relax and prepare myself for the routine of caring for residents and the possibility of the impossible happening at any given moment. Working the 1st shift means waking up at 4 a.m and leaving my home by 5 a.m to arrive at work by 5:30 a.m. I’ve tried and failed multiple times to wake up at 4 a.m on my days off. My neighbors don't work. They stay at home all day fighting one another, telling their baby to shut up, smoking copious amounts of weed and sometimes, trying to fight with me. So waking up at 4 a.m to sit in front of my desk in silence would be an amazing start to an otherwise possibly extremely uncomfortable day attempting to relax at home. I wish I could bring this kind of productivity and superhuman time management skills home with me. At the nursing home I work at I’m in constant movement. I’m constantly giving direction and care with laser focus. If I could put just a portion of my effectiveness at work into my own home I believe I’d be a much better cook, a much better friend and a far better student.

My biggest issue is with the roads. I hate how I can walk to Walmart. I hate that so many trees in our busiest areas are just gone. There are so many issues with this. Safety for one, environmental impact for two and lastly a conscience issue. My ability to stay mobile and happy has three requirements. To stay happy I must work, I must walk outside and I must eat a quality balanced diet. I am also prescribed medication for my PMDD that is necessary for my happiness nearing my period. I have struggled badly with depression, anxiety and PMDD. A walk to clear the mind, a good soup to replenish the spirit and a job to help me sleep at night knowing I made a difference at my job as a CNA in a long term care facility. My mind is active and so is my body. I take as many walks as I can around my neighborhood. Rain or shine you can find me outside either with my white bedazzled headphones on trying out new music or without my music. Alone with my thoughts I come to rejuvenate my relationship with myself. I’ve come closer to solutions, I’ve laughed, I’ve cried and I’ve kickstarted plans upon improvements in my facets of my life. Plans that can fail. My residents don't always have access to walking trails or safe neighborhoods to walk in so they wander the halls. Saying hello to passerbys, rushing round or simply stealing cakes from the front desk. No matter what they do I’m happy to see them doing. I love to exercise that is why I’ve taken it upon myself to feed their curiosities. I want them to feel as if they can still do anything. That is why I’ve started the initiative of taking walks with them when I have time. I have one resident that wants so desperately to be strong enough to go home. We could walk for hours if I didn't have 30 other people to attend to. I want more for her and I am rooting for her. When they go home or they leave for therapy I feel a sense of loss in my stomach and heart. I miss them and want to know what they are doing. That is what it means to be a CNA. As a CNA we spend the most time with them. We do all of the heavy lifting and are the recipient of the most complaints of pain. We are the messengers, the mothers and the daughters of the confused. We play endless roles from enemy to best friend. At the end of the day what the elderly need most is our strength. We give them our legs when theirs are weak. We lend our arms because theirs are fragile. We lend them our eyes, our ears and our hearts. My job pays me but what I do goes beyond my job description. What I do is nothing short of a miracle. That is why I want to pursue physical therapy. I fear I need more time with them. Even more interaction, even more care. I believe from a doctoral sense I can make a huge difference in the lives of the people I accredit my civil rights to. My right to work was once theirs. My right to love who I love is owed to them. My right to clean water services, clean food, healthy clean air wherever I can get it is an amalgamation of decisions a previous generation made. So, I want their bodies to be theirs for as long as I can make it work and with your help, reader, I can learn how to ‘make it work’ for a very long time because I am determined.

I think it is important to understand the universe so that we can better understand ourselves. There are so many particles in existence that it is hard to keep track. Honestly, keeping track of NASA’s updates is a luxury in itself. With all that goes on in our daily lives, I believe carving out a bit of time every single day to learn something new has been extremely valuable to me. When I started listening to your podcast I became overwhelmed. On my occasional walks, I like to sit and think about my life. I do this as a way of calming my nerves and loving my body and its intrinsic needs I do not fully understand yet appreciate. This time I listened to your podcast. You spoke of philosophy and concrete evidence-based science alike. I loved your curious spirit so I dug a hole into my computer screen in an attempt to keep up with your own vernacular. Sometimes I believe science comes to us. Science and philosophy are so unanimous with a sense of curiosity as well as a sense of what is known. I’ve always tried to believe we know nothing for certain. Especially what we believe to be certain. I believe I share that with the published philosophers you speak of. But I must say to employ my beliefs would be to trample over others' beliefs and in essence be hypocritical. The philosophy I believe in is simply “I don't know’. I love when I’m faced with mild to extreme uncertainty. Declaring “I don't know'' gives me an edge of humility in the face of the great invisible force of the universe, mother nature, energies I don't understand which may be yet named. “I don't know” has a huge price though. I can feel the tugs of dullness and insecurity that comes with not having any answer yet the weight lifted is an even greater force. I know how I feel when faced with threats of stress. But I know even greater that I will learn eventually. If I decided to listen to everything you’ve ever published I would. I don't know how but because I wanted to and I am willing to learn along the way I can. That, to me, is the power of I don't know. To know is to be done with it. Not knowing gives us endless possibilities. Because when we finally know, to declare “I don't know”, is to learn so much more.

Today I woke up in a funky mood. I wasn't sure why. I’d eaten a homemade curry with chicken last night and took it upon myself to make a homemade delicious vegan ranch with a bit of extra money I’d made working overtime on Thanksgiving last thursday. Life gets pretty hard forever and it seems to get hard for everyone. But today I thought for a brief moment my mood must stem from my loss. You see, I have a deep black hole in my heart. Sometimes I mistake things like simple hunger as a piece of the agony of losing my mother because I’m unsure of my own sanity at times. My otherness began at 6, when my mother committed suicide. Home alone on a regular Thursday night she had been drinking, again. Alone with her ‘sleeping body’ I tapped on her wine bottles as a way to create soft music for her as she slept. A wandering mind I began the process of awakening her out of her deep sleep. Something I was accustomed to as a child. Shaking and rattling her, her limp mouth stayed mute. The embarrassment I felt as the paramedics took her naked body away was isolating. I couldn't believe so many people were in our home. Usually alone we had sparse furniture. Very smart and privileged my mother was bogged down by something I may never understand. I am now 25 and of average intelligence and semi poor background. I love to read, write and I enjoy exercise. I’ve dabbled in commiting suicide but never made the full commitment myself. I myself struggle to maintain female relationships. I am akin to severe jealousy on mothers day and most holidays I spend working at a nursing home with my chosen family of coworkers and residents. I’ve been homeless more times than I can count and I have an unbelievable flare for pleasing people. My life outside of work is spent almost entirely alone. Now medicated and journaling on and off I see the light. I feel a lot more balanced than I ever have. I’ve struggled in so many ways. Self harm, hallucinations, OCD the list goes on. Watching my mother die and living feeling completely unprotected in a world that seems out to get me is hard but I’ve made a life for myself somehow. I’ve coped with substances and tried food restrictions to be happy but last night I made a salad dressing.

During my 4th year of elementary school on the south side of Chicago, I won an award for most books read that year in my age group at Kozminski Community Academy. I kept the trophy for many years, a testament to my abilities. My first and last trophy was very special because I enrolled myself to compete in something that felt bigger than myself under zero parental advisement to do so. I tried to commit suicide as my mother did in the 7th grade. I had spent nearly 6 hours per day alone at our home for years. My father, GED in tow, worked very long hours. Isolated I felt completely gutted in a sense I still can't wrap my head around. My desperate single father brought us to a small town called Dixon, IL. At Dixon High School, strangely enough, I fell in love with both substance abuse and cross-country running. Misdiagnosed mental health issues held me back from graduating with my closest friends and teammates. Ashamed, I enrolled in a homeschool program. Ready for a new start, I kept my focus. During the day I waitressed for a french restaurant where I was fortunate enough to invest in quality relationships. At night I sat at my computer relearning algebra and English basics. I graduated high school in 2017, 1 year later. On I went to receive my CNA to secure a reliable job. For the past 5 years, I’ve worked through a scathing pandemic. And find myself once again yearning to learn. This field has met me with so much hypocrisy. As such a complex job I have gained a greater sense of practicality towards aging. This is why I’ve chosen physical therapy. I’ve continued to run cross country and that has become the basis of who I am outside of work. My motivation to move forward is reflected in my sense of self when I am at work. 5 years later though I am heralded for looking so young yet being so useful in the workplace. I love studying and reading and I feel othered at my job. I fear I must do something else not just for the money but because of how much I want to help my residents. I sometimes fear my passions could be more useful than the basics of care. I want to move forward with my career as a means to stay in long-term care. This means continuing my career in the long-term care field but with a long-term objective. I have so many ideas. There is simply a flame in my heart to do better. Cooking better meals, running harder, and going faster and further are the nature of my experience. Now that I am medicated in retrospect I fear I have lost so much time to my depression. I am passionate about helping others regain their life and strength.

I value my honesty. My honesty with myself and others has carried me through the darkest times in my life. Sometimes I am wrong, sometimes I am right, most times I’m somewhere in between. The other day with my sister I got into an argument. She went below the jugular and for days I recounted that situation over and over in my head. I’m still thinking of it but time dulls the pain. I fear retaliation. I wonder if she’s shown anyone our texts. I wonder if she laughs at how she’s hurt me but through it all I've maintained my dignity thanks entirely to my honesty with myself. I feel I could’ve been more patient, more open and more mature. She’s raised some valid concerns that may have bruised my ego. I am not perfect but I like to entertain the idea that I know absolutely nothing. This humility is my own protection against mine and the arrogance of others. I believe honesty with oneself is the beginning and ending of self respect. To be honest with your pain is to go much further in life in my opinion. I don't believe in lying to myself because my body knows the truth. My body knows when I’m at my wits end with a project. My body knows when I’m overcompensating because I’m insecure. My body knows when to stop. I believe in stopping when it’s time with anything. As a CNA burnout is extremely real. Over time I’ve begun to harness shaky boundaries with my jobs. Sometimes at the expense of relationships with my coworkers and boss. So far my body has thanked me and I’ve garnered much more respect for myself. Since I’ve become more honest with myself I’ve noticed which grocery stores to avoid, which in turn has aid in my health. Listening to my body when I exercise has become huge. Instead of training like a woman who doesn't stand on her feet and bend down all day I’ve taken a more relaxed approach to my exercise routine which I am incredibly thankful for because winter can be such a tough season upon my body. My life's journey seems long and arduous at my age. Honesty can be my propeller. When the world feels like it's crashing down around me I can see clearly because I can see that I am not seeing clearly. The sun always comes up and because I am honest with myself about everything from my financial situation to the cost of living I am here writing this essay. Honesty in my future can help me know that no matter what my pride will always try to blind me. I suffer from something called humanness. An affliction I’m sure you’re familiar with. Honesty isn't truth because there are so many interpretations toward my behavior, my lifestyle and decisions. With an unbreakable unshakeable nearing constant obsessive evolution of a desire to get to know oneself and one's changing beliefs and distractions my honesty may carry me to heights unseen. I believe my honesty can help me finish school in a timely manner. In the future and now I believe my honesty makes me a better person. I believe it may force me to be more brave because I know my fears. In the end I don't know how honest I am with myself. I don't know if I’m ever missing any context or solutions to bugs in my system but my honesty gives me the freedom to believe in the I don't know and the courage to find out why.

I recently started hanging out with a girl from work. She’s brave, smart, observant and kind. We grab coffee from time to time. She does a lot of volunteer work at our local YWCA. I’ve decided to try and appease her by going as well. The first time we went together I met a young girl named Tiffany. Her mother had just gained custody of her after a lengthy legal battle with her father. Upon further inspection of the girl I realized how desperately she missed her father. So I brought my own to the YWCA Men aren't generally welcomed in all women's spaces but I took it upon myself to give her a fatherless day. My dad played frisbee with her, helped her with her homework and even went so far as to ring her McDonalds. My father never went to highschool. On the mean streets of Chicago his own father left him and his 3 younger sisters alone with my grandmother when my dad was just eating. At 47 now my dad knows what it is to have an absentee father. To miss being picked up and twirled around by a happy face. With 0 guidance my dad raised me alone after my mother committed suicide. The man of his own home from a young age my dad was no stranger to raising, protecting and providing for young girls. As a token of gratitude I have dedicated much of my life to practicing extreme independence. I’ve enrolled in school and I’m doing my best but I dont have the resources a perfect world would provide for me. In a perfect world I wouldn't have to work 16 hour shifts as a CNA just to get by. I love my job but I wanna make a bigger difference in the world. Watching my dad play with this young girl really opened my eyes to how soon I may lose another parent. I need a way to take care of him. As a CNA I have much experience working with the elderly but I want to do much more. I want to bring my passion for mental health to my job. With more freedom to work with them as a Physical therapist, not only will I have more time to donate, I'll have the power to make a difference in more lives. I don't get to spend half as much time with residents or the YWCA women as I’d like but with this scholarship I could provide for myself with ease that I wouldn't have known without it.

When I met my best friend, we were in 7th grade. We did everything together from the legal to the (at the time) illegal. Full disclosure: this person introduced me to shrooms. When I first tried shrooms I was 15. Today I am 25 and still incredibly close to this individual. The importance of this relationship starts and ends with the impact our environment faces every single day. This person introduced me to camping, recycling and the importance of public transportation. When I first met Aaron, I thought he was just a normal skater dude who hang out with normal skater duded. As an African American from Chicago you, reader, can imagine how limited my informal and formal education was on climate change. I assumed from a very young age that this is what the world was. Full of natural disasters such as forest fires and tsunamis. Floods and oil spills. I had been bombarded with the news for a very long time. Never overhearing even, a fraction of what conversations Aaron had grown up listening to. Fast forward we moved to a small town. I met this group of boys who skate and they start picking up garbage. We’re walking along Dixons River and these teenage boys, who illegally skate near Abraham Lincoln's statue, are picking up garbage. I began camping with this individual on a regular basis. During this time, I made very good friends with our local camp host. He invited me to a rally in Chicago whose mission was to add more walkable cities in rural Illinois. As we all know car companies have destroyed most public sidewalks in most smaller towns in America near the busiest areas of consumerism. Including near malls, grocery stores and general shopping centers. I became engrossed in the environment once again because of Aaron's influence. But this time I felt I could do something about it. I wrote an inspired letter to my congressman. Begging him to open more sidewalks so that I, without a car at the time, could safely walk to Walmart for food. I have yet to hear back but that was one of the most exhilarating things I have ever done to date. At such a young age I was so impressionable. In this instance it evolved into a good thing for me. I started picking up garbage with them. As I slowly got to know this young man, I learned the extent of which he cared for the earth and as we’ve both aged, we’ve both found our own sectors in this life. Mine is healthcare his is renewable energy. His passion for renewable energy has gotten him jobs at windfarms and solar panel instillation companies. We still pick up garbage together.

For the sake of full disclosure, I am so sorry about your mother. When I read about this scholarship my heart sunk into the deepest crevices of my body. I was tired of reliving this and even more tired of addressing the situation because I feel as though I’m using my own mother's suicide for leverage or pity in my essay but I’m starting to realize no one would want to relive this for anything or anyone. I envy you, Calvin, because you got to know your mother. You probably even know her favorite color or remember her birthday offhand because you experienced celebrating her life. My mom took her life while we were home alone. I was 7 years old. Now I get the pleasure of getting to know her through the eyes of the people I sometimes blame for her death. This isn't so much of a formal essay because we are already well acquainted but to tell you a bit about myself, I am 25, crying at my desk at 11:16 am and due to work as a CNA at Lena Living center in Lena, IL at 2;30pm till 10:30. My base pay is usually $20 per hour but today it is $42 because of the holiday. I recently realized again how badly I want an education so I’ve been stuck in the house applying to jobs and scholarships for hours on end. Sometimes I'm afraid to leave my house. Sometimes I have to force myself just to walk to my garage because, my skin breaks out when I’m at home too much. I want you to know whatever you're going through I understand. Whatever your mothers thought processes was I understand. I write to you from a place of a person who cannot keep friendships. Who is afraid to be left by death again. My ultimate goal in life is to be completely free and clear of depression myself. What a wonderful life I could've created for myself. I'm smart I consider myself beautiful and funny at times but life has left me completely at the whim of journaling, my boyfriend's financial assistance and social media. I shower daily I’ve created a routine that gives me a sense of luxury but suicide is a sting I will never salve. With this scholarship I would try my best to stay alive. I would try my best to see the meaning in life and create the love of life that I see others having or even the sheer acceptance of failure and heartbreak but I can't promise I’ll graduate. I can't promise I’ll make waves or cure my own or anyone else's wisdom but I will think of you.

When I was young all, I could think about was reading. When I begged my dad for a TIME subscription, he faltered without a second thought to feed my young mind. Though he has very limited formal education he raised me to value my own education. As a single father he did whatever he could do to feed my interests. When I crashed his car on my way home from volunteering at the field museum he paid for the damages. When I couldn’t find a job, he heavily suggested I study enroll in classes to become a CNA. I now have acquired 5 years as a CNA with no concrete plan on stopping until I become a doctor of physical therapy. As a black girl I am always the black CNA of quite a few. Though I’ve noticed the physical therapy positions are widely considered white women jobs. I love my coworkers but this is a humongous problem. Most successful student athletes are black. Science backs the idea that we are simply the most athletic race but why are most of the coaches and faculty in leadership positions white? There may be proof that they bring something to the table that we do not but I intend to change that. My studies will focus on the human body but my experience has been mental. I myself love to exercise. That is why when I started volunteering at my local food pantry, I took notice of the people that came in for food. What they like to do, what their relationship with food and exercise is and why they ended up in their predicament. Shockingly a lot of these people struggle with abuse. Abuse of the mind. This is what I call exemplary research because it was genuine. These people were honest so I intend to be honest with you. I have no idea how I will change the minds of my community but I intend to be the catalyst of change by simply existing. When I volunteer and share myself with these people, I want to become an inspiration. I apply to scholarships so that I can show others how to. I love volunteering but no one will really listen to me until they identify with my story and believe I can identify with theirs. I see so much potential all around me at the homeless shelter and because I have been homeless multiple times myself my story is one of a seed with potential to blossom into something I can share with them. I intend to bring three things in my community down to 0. The overwhelming poverty rate, elderly abuse and infantilization and the rampant racism we all view from our homes in college sports. It may involve a TIME magazine position it may not but progress will certainly start and end with me in my life and surroundings. These three seemingly unrelated things have nothing in common but me and my decision to change the layout of these systems with my own voice, time and creative adjustments to the society I am forced to witness.

When I was growing up, I was one of 4 fully black students in my graduating class. I am from Chicago, IL but my dad moved me up to Dixon, IL for a safer environment. The culture shock I received at 12 years old is absolutely unforgettable. Now I spend my time working mostly as a CNA and volunteering at my local homeless shelter. Though the town is predominantly white the homeless people are predominantly my color. It may not seem like much but when you’re homeless you can use every sliver of light in this life. At first when I started volunteering, I noticed not only was all of the staff white women but the men on the board wre white men. Imagine overtime you come home to your shared home you have to share space with people who look down on you? People who feel as though you are a lost cause in your own home? That’s how I feel my volunteers that I work with made the residents feel. I felt as though they were constantly told to be quiet. That their needs were exorbitant or imagined. I believed these women were coming from a good place but why was my anger so prevalent? That is why I enlisted as many of my black friends to volunteer with us. We now share space with the older white women and though it has been a challenge becoming accepted and respected in this space it has not only inspired me to make more of a difference it has inspired me to make a difference in my own self esteem. Before I started working at this homeless shelter, I had my own ideas of beauty and self-worth that were smashed by this new found expression of gratitude for my life by giving to theirs. My mind simply changed in what felt like a lifetime of work. Today I can say it started with my hair. I stopped straightening my hair and began excepting my natural texture, any black woman can tell you how empowering that is but I felt my own version firsthand. I wanted the little girls I saw to be tempted to do the same and it has. One little girl loves my hair, another finds it distasteful but it amazes me that something as trivial seeming as hair could start a conversation about what is acceptable and what is not in young black minds. Please understand this is not only a testament to self-worth but a testament to natural health and culture. I started with an idea. This change started with fear of my own for these people. But when I realized my power to make a change, I began to see the world differently. It may not seem like much but we have created a safer solace for these people that live there. We have created a loving home full of simple, unapologetic BLACK joy and for that I am a better woman myself. Thank you for reading.